Leave It All Up To Chance
by Hyacinthe Cassiline
Summary: It was this place that they met. It was this place that made them fight back to back. It was this place that made them friends. It was this place that made them lovers.
1. Prologue

Hello, all~! 'Tis Kimiko-chan, back with more. This will be, hopefully, a multi-chapter fic. I've had this idea bugging me for WEEKS, so finally, I decided to let it out.

Before anyone asks, I have taken a certain amount of creative liberty with this. Yes, this will be an AU story.

Summary: It was this place that they met. It was this place that made them fight back to back. It was this place that made them friends. It was this place that made them lovers. It was, of all places, here where Ichigo grew up too quickly and where Grimmjow's seemingly endless love of violence was tamed.

Inspiration: I had a dream that my friends and I were all living together in a shitty, run-down city where it was no shock that someone was found dead every few nights. But, thanks to dream logic, we never used the buddy system and left the house in a group, or even in pairs. We all went out alone. But, fortunately, dream logic also supplied us with the kind of bad-assery that let us beat the ever-loving fuck out of just about anyone who dared mess with us. So, in all, I suppose some brawn is a fair trade for brains when it comes in handy.

Anywho, that's where this matriculated from.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. How do I know? My white shirts, from moving, are no longer white. They're this weird grayish-cream color. Obviously, I need to own Bleach.

Okay, okay. I'm done with my spiel. I'll let you get on to the prologue.

* * *

A night-cooled breeze flowed through the city, marking its territory, curling invisible fingers through autumn-browned leaves, snagging on the hundreds – no, thousands – of dirty, time-worn buildings.

An orange sun painted the dawn sky delicate shades of pink, red, and yellow; the colors blurred themselves together, stretched their brush-strokes to the opposite side of the sky as though attempting turning the shades of light blue to dark blue; trying to share their color, their radiance, with the rest of the sky.

Blinding orange glinted off the buildings below, casting odd shapes, somewhat frightening shadows over the darkened and deserted alleyways. It poured color over rusted and decaying apartment buildings that seemed to be falling apart, over tiny brick houses with equally tiny, dead front lawns, and over tall, once grandiose business-type buildings with dirt and dust-darkened blinds hanging crookedly just inside cracked and broken windows.

The city was, by itself, beautiful in a macabre, broken way. The silence that stretched through the streets, whispered its way through the wind, and mapped its dangerous way through the shiny wilderness spoke incoherent, mute warnings against noise. It spoke of the violence that lay, barely disguised, just under the skin of the city's streets, sidewalks, and under the foundations of rickety buildings.

Most heeded this warning. Most scurried like frightened mice to the shelter of their homes, where they had at least three locks and a weak door between them and the danger that lurked just outside, whispering threats through the cracks in walls.

Some, however, acted as though these silent laws did not exist. Some reveled in the rush of adrenaline that came with the precarious balance of barely-leashed peril and the calm that came just before the storms did, bringing with them a sense of absolute dread.

A flash of color shot, disturbing the wind's gentle, yet demanding pull. Liquid, luscious red. A quiet, self-condemning groan of pain broke the silence, ripped it apart for a tenth of a second like a bullet in the dead of night. The sound of a thin, insane chuckle echoed through the alley. Blood, dark and shiny, laced with the sun's reflected glow filled the space, splattered on the surrounding walls, ground, and sidewalk.

No one would have dared find their way into that alley. No one would dare attempt discovering what monster had laid this tragedy before them.

The insane chuckle sounded again, and a last groan made its feeble way out of the alley, somehow louder than the howling wind, somehow more able to fill the heart with bone-shattering dread.

A tall figure smiled gently at the freshly-killed victim soaked in blood, black mud, and quickly-fading desperation. The man shook his head, still smiling, and walked out of the alley and down the street, whistling a rather merry tune, the sound bouncing off the walls, windows, and whirlwinds of chill.

Shivers ran down the spines of those who heard it.

* * *

Yes, I know this is short. Full chapters will not be this short.

Tell me what you think~!


	2. Just Another Day

Hello all. Wow. It took me forever to update this thing. I've been busy with work, helping little old ladies cross roads, saving kittens from trees, and feeding the homeless. Sorry, the world needed me~!

Okay, you called my bullshit. Though I really _was_ busy with work. Finally, a day off~!

Also, to many who read the first chapter and didn't see how it related to Bleach at all, it was the prologue. Trust me, the Bleach is forthcoming. Also, if anyone guessed who the 'cheerful whistler' at the end of the prologue is, you deserve a cookie. And you should get off my brainwave. It would be appreciated. *grin*

**Warnings: My characters have the tendency to cuss like sailors. They don't do that so much in theis chapter, but it's coming. There will also be boy/boy love later in the story. If you don't like it, don't waste my time by reading the thing until it gets to that point and sending one long, rude letter about how I'm an "abomination" of nature and "will be going to hell", yadda, yadda, yadda. It gets boring.**

Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach, my white clothes would actually be white, wouldn't they?

Enough of my drabble, off you go~!

* * *

A bright, relentless sun shone, reflecting off of car and building windows, blinding innocent passerby and leaving them with a large slash of white beneath their eyelids. The same light shone through several windows, staining the insides of eyelids red, yellow, and orange, warning that a new day had finally begun.

For some, however, the day had started in a less calm manner.

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

Ichigo groaned and rolled over in bed, already feeling a headache forming from the obnoxious sound emanating from his dresser. Anymore of that noise and he'd-

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

-throw it across the room. The alarm clock hit the wall and fell to the floor, still ringing. How it had survived being thrown like that not once, not twice, but _daily_, was a mystery. Finally, Ichigo rolled out of bed and retrieved the alarm clock, then slammed his hand down on the off switch.

Another day.

Same thing.

As usual.

Ichigo almost wanted to sigh at the monotony of his life. Every day was the same: get up, go to class, go home, do homework, take a shower, go to bed. After half a year, it tended to get a little boring.

So, stretching, Ichigo began to dress for the day, throwing on a pair of blue jeans and a long-sleeved purple shirt, then pulling on a black sweater over that. As he was pulling on his shoes, however, a knock sounded at the door.

"Hey, Ichigo? I'm grabbing dinner with Rukia tonight. You want anything while I'll be out?"

Renji looked the same as usual, his lips set into a bored frown, eyes averted, and staring at the ceiling – but a faint hue of red tinted his cheeks.

"Yeah, there is something I want," Ichigo started with a smirk, "I want you to grow a pair and ask Rukia out already. We all know you want to." (1) By the time he ended this sentence, he had dodged a book, a lighter, and a wire hanger, all thrown by Renji.

"Shut the hell up. You why I'm not doing anything so don't go there."

"But dude, you two are perfect for each other-"

"-and if you don't do it now, someone else will and you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Yeah, I know." Ichigo rolled his eyes in response to Renji's finishing his rant.

"Alright, fine. I won't bug you anymore. But you really should just go for it. Even if it doesn't work out, this is _Rukia_ we're talking about. She'll still be your friend, no matter what happens. Seriously. So don't worry about it."

"Yeah, yeah." With that, Renji left Ichigo to pack his books for the day.

A few minutes later, Ichigo was out the front door, his bag held over his shoulder with one hand, though it really was heavier that way.

Usually, Ichigo walked to Karakura University for his classes, and today, he decided, would be no different. It was good exercise, though he was already in good shape. Turning a corner, he spied something that made him drop his bag and race forwards.

Orihime, a fellow student, was being held by one delicate, slender wrist by a scruffy, mean-looking stranger. Worse, it looked like this stranger was trying to force her to go somewhere with him. Ichigo wasn't having that. With a quick punch, the man let go of Orihime and spun around, shocked, to face Ichigo. When the man's eyebrows lowered and his eyes darkened with rage, Ichigo felt himself tense up, ready to block whatever was thrown at him.

The first time, it was a fist. That was dodged easily. The second time, it was a kick. That was also dodged easily. The knife, however, had come from nowhere. Out of the blue. Ichigo managed to catch the hand wielding the knife before any damage was done, however, and wrenched it out of the man's hands before tossing it over his shoulder. When he heard it hit the concrete, he knew it was too far away to be a threat.

"Get lost." Ichigo growled the words to the man, who now looked more frightened than angry. The man glared at Ichigo, then gave a lecherous smile to Orihime as he sauntered away, hands in the pockets of his old leather jacket.

A moment later, Orihime took a deep breath, her hand over her heart and her eyes shut. "Thank you so much, Ichigo. That was scary."

"Nah, you know I don't mind, Orihime. Come on, let's get to class now, yeah?"

Orihime's replying smile was radiant as she clasped her hands behind her back and joined Ichigo on the walk to school.

"Orihime! You forgot your bag!" Orihime and Ichigo both turned to look over their shoulders as a very short young woman ran towards them, still in her pajamas, brandishing a pink backpack. The young woman's black hair was messy, showing she'd literally just rolled out of bed. She hadn't even bothered to put on shoes.

"Oh, thank you Rukia. I could've sworn I had it when I left…"

"You did. You just left it by the front door when you locked it." Rukia handed Orihime the bag.

"You know, you should be more careful. Walking around outside without shoes? Real smart." Ichigo's voice was soaked in sarcasm as he sent a smirk to Rukia. In retaliation, Rukia sent a hard kick to Ichigo's shin, making him cry out in shock and pain. The tiny little monster!

Orihime giggled at their antics as she tossed her long, orange hair over her shoulder. "Hey, we'll be late if we don't hurry!" Ichigo and Rukia looked at her, stopping their glare-war for a moment. "We have five minutes before class starts."

"Shit!" Ichigo then took off at a run, Orihime on his heels, Rukia watching until they rounded a corner half a block away. She turned and made her way back to her and Orihime's shared aparetment, a small smile on her face.

* * *

"Grimmjow. Get up. You're going to be late." A monotonous, deep voice echoed through the dark, quiet room. The response to these words was a groan and the figure in the mountain of blankets burying itself further. "Get up, Grimmjow, or I'll help you."

"Shut up, Ulquiorra. Five more minutes." The voice that sounded from the blankets was muffled, but that didn't hide the strength in it. The man was just too stubborn to show how tired he _really_ was.

"Yes, you said that five minutes ago. It is five minutes from that time."

"Smart ass. I meant five _more_ minutes."

"No."

"Asshole." Still, Grimmjow emerged from the mess of pillows and blankets, ruffled and disgruntled. His blue hair was free of its usual hair gel, but still seemed to defy gravity in the mess it was in. A strong, tanned hand rose, the fingers weaving themselves through the blue mop, pulling it out of the man's face before settling on a bare, muscled stomach. Bright, sky blue eyes glared at Ulquiorra, who stood next to the bed, his arms in his pants pockets. "There. I'm up."

"I can see that. Get ready or you'll be late." With that, Ulquiorra turned and left the room, turning on the light and closing the door behind him. Grimmjow hissed when the light met his sensitive eyes, but dug his way out of the blankets. On his way to the closet, he stretched his arms over his head, yawning. The door opening once more stole his attention.

"It is also your turn to bring dinner home. No fast food, please." Grimmjow rolled his eyes as Ulquiorra shut the door again. Why Ulquiorra had decided to become a vegetarian two years ago was still a complete mystery to him. He'd heard every reason under the sun from one person or another: I love animals; I don't like the taste of meat; I want to be healthier; I'm going green; I'm on a diet; I don't love animals, I hate plants. The usual responses. But none of them really applied to Ulquiorra, seeing as how he'd stare, like a starved animal, at the big juicy burger Grimmjow would be bringing home later.

Ten minutes later, Grimmjow was dressed and out the door, though he hadn't packed the books he'd need for the day's classes. He didn't need them anyways.

Ulquiorra, on the other hand, had packed his books, notebooks, pens, and pencils the night before, even though he didn't have class for another two hours. Between the two, he'd always been the more responsible one. Grimmjow was the one who knew how to have fun, though Ulquiorra still referred to him as 'the Neanderthal'.

A gentle breeze blew past the two as they walked down the street, their steps brisk, but unhurried. It was just another day, after all. A day just like the one before it.

* * *

(1) I really hope I don't have to explain this one, but for the sake of covering all my bases, Ichigo is telling Renji to let 'em drop. Y'know, his balls.

First actual chapter: complete.

Yes, I know this isn't as long as it could be, but cut me some slack. I had to do an alcohol tasting for my waitressing job. I'm not kidding. Anyone out there who _is_ a waitress or waiter knows what I'm talking about here. So yes, because of this tasting (and thanks to the ridiculously LONG alcohol list we have) I am a little goofy at the moment. But all the same, inspiration hit and I had to get it out.

So still, let me know what you think.

Peace, love, and recycling~!


End file.
